


Are you ready to drink or are you waiting to drown?

by sugarboat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Moderate Body Horror, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possession, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarboat/pseuds/sugarboat
Summary: There's a silver lining to everything, even losing your humanity and dooming your entire dimension.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Can be viewed as a continuation of [Remember to Breathe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7953520/chapters/18188986), but can also be read by itself!

Beneath Bill’s fingers, Ford’s skin splits. They trace along the curving bones of his collar, meeting in the middle at the bumpy ridge of his sternum and trail downward from there. The lines they leave in their wake burn like ice, and Ford doesn’t feel pain anymore – not like he used to. His skin feels like it was stitched together, like everywhere Bill touches he snaps the strings that are holding Ford together. Blood wells up hot but all he can focus on is Bill. There’s a series of deep, sickening cracks and Ford can feel his chest lengthening again, his ribs breaking and muscles parting, forking, and the electric feeling of matter adding itself to his form – not him, his form, there’s a separation now that there hadn’t been before – and there’s another set of limbs, reaching blindly towards the light.

Bill’s laughing. Tendrils are around his new wrists, mirroring the sets that anchor down his other two pairs, and they drag his hands slowly, deliberately downwards. They tie together behind his back, making him arch even further, and Ford is made aware of the unnatural curvature of his spine. Bill’s fingers sweep down the inner bulges of his ribcage, and Ford tries to count with him as he goes – _onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleventwelvethirteenfourteenfifteensixteen_ –

“I always KNEW you were impressive, Fordsy, but THIS is REALLY TAKING THE CAKE!” When Bill speaks, there’s a vibration in the air that he can feel all the way down to his molecules. His whole body shakes with it, and Ford doesn’t know if it’s fear crushing his heart in such a firm grasp or something worse. All he knows is that he frantically, desperately wants it to be Bill’s fingers around his heart. “Hmm, your ATTENTION SPAN leaves something to be DESIRED though, huh? A little EASY to DISTRACT?” 

Is there something growing on his chest? Ford struggles against the tentacles Bill has around him, and the demon responds by constricting them all, tugging him into place. He strains; his muscles, old and new alike, coil and tense, and then relax. Sweat and blood dribble down his chest, drip off of him to patter on the extra dimensional floor of the fearamid. Bill takes hold of his chin in one hand, and Ford feels his teeth buzzing in his skull at the close contact. He wrenches his eyes open, unsure of when he closed them, even as his mouth opens and his tongue lolls out between sharp teeth to lap at the fingers stroking along his jaw.

“You MORTALS and your MEAT SUITS!” Ford stares at Bill, chest shuddering with every exhale. It almost makes him sick – something spins, lurking at the peripheries of his vision, looks like violently writhing blackness. It makes Bill appear even more luminous in comparison. “Start ADDING a few new DIMENSIONS and you just LOSE your MINDS! Think you can HOLD IT TOGETHER? I’ve got enough RAVING LUNATICS around here to start a CULT already! ACTUALLY, I think they DID!” 

The words swim together, form a mush in his brain that feels like molasses, drips down his insides like sap rolling down a tree. Bill chuckles again and his eye splits open, a clear gel pouring out and coating his front surface while a tongue slurps out and winds its way through the air. It licks up Ford’s cheek and then wraps around his neck. 

“Puh…” Ford begins, and the top of Bill’s eye raises like he’s surprised, or interested. Pantomiming reactions for him as always. Ford’s mouth feels weird, crammed and crowded with too many teeth, his tongue long and so responsive. His lips twist and he tries again. “Please…”

“Please? Please WHAT?” The tongue around his neck tightens. “You know I’d give you ANYTHING, Fordsy – I OFFERED it enough times, didn’t I?” At that, Ford bares his teeth and snarls. “Still feeling SENSITIVE about that? I MEAN it this time - anything you want!” Bill laughs, cruel and unkind, his slick tongue still winding itself tighter like a serpent without an end. “All you have to do is ASK!” Bill’s thumb brushing over his lower lip feels bruising. 

Bill might be telling the truth. All Ford’s bones are rattling in their joints at the thought. It’s not easy to parse through, with his mind on the verge of overstimulation, with everything coming through fuzzy and frayed with static, but Ford can feel something new when Bill talks now. He isn’t stupid enough anymore to believe that he is any closer to understanding the demon, but it feels like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

It doesn’t matter either way. Ford can barely form thought, let alone shape words in this mouth so packed and bulky. And a million thoughts flit through his head, of the boons he should be pleading for – his brother, his kids, his town, his whole world – but disgustingly enough, he knows he would ask for none of it. Because all he wants is for Bill to keep sliding more and more hands down his skin, to break him and own him and put him back, back where he belongs again.

“Where you always HAVE belonged!” Bill answers. “And where you’ve always BEEN, Fordsy, in SPIRIT if not BODY! Hey, I just got an IDEA! Something we haven’t DONE in a while!” Are those eyelashes or teeth? Bill’s form becomes stone, and Ford can _see_ the glowing and incandescent outline of his psyche. 

Like creeping moss, the calcification of Bill’s form radiates outward, down the trailing tongue still coiled around his neck. It spreads insidiously all the way to the multitude of tentacles that are wound in a pulsing lattice around Ford’s legs and arms. Their grip was tolerable in flesh, but become painfully unyielding once set in stone. He doesn’t have long to savor – or detest – the ache before Bill is leaping into his flesh. Ford swallows around a suddenly dry mouth, his Adam’s apple rising and falling against the vice around his throat.

Bill makes their chest arc upwards, their spine bowing even further, and six lances of pain spark out from his shoulders. Ford tries to cry out but Bill has his mouth, is busy sinking sharp teeth into the curve of his bottom lip. He’s making a pleased, purring sound that reverberates in their chest. 

“Want me to TEACH YOU how to USE this thing?” Bill asks. He laughs when Ford furrows his brow in response. Of course, Bill can speak clearly with his new mouth.

For the first time, Ford is hyperaware of how Bill floods inside him. In the past, it was messy - hard to tell where Bill ended and he began, only truly aware of the act of surrendering fully to his muse’s control. Ford can feel the delineation between the two of the clearly, could almost make a map of the clawlike extensions Bill digs into his brain that trail down all his nerve endings like a second sheath. It’s like he’s only just beginning to feel the true intimacy of the act. Bill flexes against the bindings he left wrapped around the both of them, and Ford can feel an answering heat pooling in stomach.

“Man, I really do not GET what you SEE in this, Sixer!” Ford rolls his eyes in response to the complaint but Bill still has their mouth stretched in a grin. His tongue drags over the droplets of blood beading along his lip. Without warning, his body jackknifes violently, and Bill gives him control of their throat and mouth to let him groan at the burning, pulling pain lighting up his joints. He can practically feel his skin mottling underneath the stone grip of Bill’s limbs around him. They sag in their bindings for a moment, and Bill’s pleasure and satisfaction buzzes in the air around them like a multitude of vibrating strings. 

“Bill,” Ford is finally able to say. At the sound of his name, the demon shifts their body this way and that. His thighs strain to come together, but remain trapped, stubbornly splayed. Ford’s hips twitch in a bid for stimulation that can’t be granted. 

Taking pity on him – or himself – Bill yanks their lowest set of arms free. The stone tendrils wound about them crumble into large, clumsy pieces, toppling to the floor in a series of impactful thuds. Bill runs their hands up and down Ford’s chest, following the sticky trails of blood his earlier actions had left behind. His head turns to the side, and Bill is shoving red-coated fingers into his mouth, moaning lewdly enough that Ford feels a thrill of excitement lance down his spine. 

Bill’s other hand ventures up his body, pressing at the junctions of Ford’s newly developed limbs in subtle curiosity. Ford shakes under his own touch as his fingers linger over strange bones and prominences that no human should possess, and his breath hitches when Bill pinches at his skin, slowly moving his hand lower. With their only other free hand, Bill thrusts his fingers lazily in and out of Ford’s mouth, letting the mortal lick and suck at the appendages.

There’s saliva spilling over his bottom lip from Bill’s messy movements, but Ford can’t find it in himself to care when the demon finally wraps a hand around his cock. He moans around fingers that stroke against his tongue and wander over the sharp tips of his new fangs. His hips buck up into his hand. It feels like Bill laughing inside his head, throbbing behind his right eye like a migraine. Something hot and coppery drips down his cheek and gets caught in his lashes with every blink.

Bill’s twisting his hand up and down his length. Even with all the new, maddening sensations – his body a warped, quivering mess, his mind practically splintering – the sensation is so familiar it drives a pick into his heart. Bill always knew how to unravel Ford at the seams. A nagging voice in the back of his mind brays, telling him how stupid he is to put himself back into Bill’s hands. The rest of him just shivers, and he wonders how he could have borne to stay away so long. 

His fingers slide out of his mouth and brush wetly at the skin of his neck, feeling at the tender flesh where his stone collar is leaving a ring of bruises. The tips of them press between the ragged flaps of skin that have peeled away from his clavicles before drifting downwards. If Bill’s abandoned tongue wasn’t holding him captive, Ford would watch its progress. He settles for staring at the noxious ceiling that writhes and surges with a life of its own, feeling queasy. 

“Bill,” he says again. Bill’s hand stills and squeezes roughly, dragging a surprised groan from low in his throat. “I…” _missed you. hate you._

“Tell me,” Bill replies. Ford’s gaze drops to the carven vessel Bill left behind, studying the split, monstrous gaze. “Tell me how much you hate me, Fordsy. I wanna hear it!” 

“I…” Ford starts. “I _despise_ you, Bill.” The demon removes his hand completely, only to wrap his other, spit slick hand around his cock instead. “With every fiber of my being.” His chest shakes with laughter that isn’t his and his hand begins to move again.

“Tell me more!” Bill sounds excited, elated even. “I know that can’t be ALL you have to say to me!” 

The ache that start behind his eye has spread to encompass both his temples, his entire skull beats with every frantic heartbeat. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Fat chance! But you’re ALWAYS welcome to try!” Ford thinks both of them are thrusting into the tight ring of his hand now. “Face it, Sixer, your meek little RESISTANCE is about as EFFECTIVE as your dumb little BARRIER - it’s always got one BIG, ACHILLES HEEL hanging out! And you know what yours is?” Ford opens his mouth to reply but Bill seizes control again. “Aww, heck, I’m just gonna tell you! It’s the fact that you don’t even WANT to kill me!” Bill laughs and Ford’s head throbs. “It’s LAUGHABLE, really, and not just to ME! After EVERYTHING I’ve done to you, I STILL know what you want the most, and it’s not my COLD, THREE-PLUS DIMENSIONAL BODY rotting a HOLE in your SPACE TIME CONTINUUM!” 

In a sweeping rush, Bill steps out of his body, the pieces of himself slamming roughly back together. The limbs all around him roar into undulating life again. Bill’s tongue simply drops off as his eye reforms itself, knitting smoothly back together, and Bill warps it into a mouth to blow a kiss at him before Ford is roughly turned around and his body is smashed against the floor of the fearamid. The impact rattles his already splitting skull, and Ford is sure he bit his cheek, wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth have sheared completely through the thin flesh.

Ford struggles to pull himself upright, but the set of hands that had been briefly free are wrapped up again and wrenched behind his back. His chest is pressed flush to the cool ground, and the tentacles around his arms and shoulders shove him harder against it. The ones around his lower limbs position him like a doll, yanking his hips up and forcing his knees to bend. He can feel the weight of Bill’s gaze on him and an odd embarrassment worms its way inside him that has Bill laughing once more.

“Like I haven’t seen THIS before!” A hand swats his ass and to his utter shame, Ford yelps in shock at the contact. “And this is HARDLY the most PATHETIC you’ve ever been!” Fingers tangle in his hair and drag his head back, forcing him to crane his neck. “Just REMEMBER, I’m only giving you EXACTLY what you WANT! If you’re going to be MAD at anyone here, be MAD at yourself!” 

A tentacle thrusts inside him and Ford moans. It’s slick and borderline painful, and gives him no time to adjust before it’s pulling away and surging back inside him, deeper. Bill sets a pace that almost feels like punishment, and Ford’s knees and chest scrape against the ground as the tendrils wound around and around him tug him back and forth onto the length inside him. 

“God, Bill, please,” Ford pants brokenly. The tentacle pushes inside him, harder, and Ford isn’t sure if his prayers have been answered or not. His cock is weeping precum.

“A little REDUNDANT there, don’t you think?” As if he weighs nothing at all, the tentacles lift him into the air, and Ford looks down at his body finally. His vision swims and his mind can’t make sense of what he sees. Too long, too many ribs, too many muscles, too many limbs. It’s not human. It’s not him. Bill’s hands rest on his face and Ford finds his gaze drawn back to his muse. “No DISSOCIATING now! We’re just getting to the GOOD PART!” 

His legs are spread, knees still bent, and he’s held still as the tentacle thrusts into him again. This time, it rams into his prostate with every movement, occasionally pausing to writhe against it in a pattern that has Ford shaking in his bonds. Again and again it slams inside him, and Ford knows he’s pressing back into it now, straining for more as far as he can in Bill’s tight grip. Ford’s eyes slip shut and Bill moves away, down his body and wraps his own hand, soft and electrically hot, around Ford’s cock, and it only takes two or three pumps before Ford’s cumming a sticky mess all over his nightmare black fingers.

As if he’s miles away from his own body, Ford can hardly make sense of Bill withdrawing from him, the death grip Bill’s tendrils had on his limbs loosening until he’s being cradled above the ground. They undulate like seaweed along his skin, lazy and drifting, encourage his heartbeat to steady and his breathing to deepen. Bill regards him like he’s a particularly clever pet.

“You know something, Fordsy?” Bill pauses as though he expects Ford to answer him, and the human resists the urge to roll his eyes. He can feel his muscles – an unnatural amount of them – tense up in anticipation of whatever scathing remark is about to come his way. “I missed you too!” 

The proclamation stings worse than an insult would have.


End file.
